One Day Into Insanity
by Dakota-Jones
Summary: A different take on Patrick's mother. Slash! Who knew that one comment could set it all off? By the time they figured it out, it would be too late, and the insanity could end in the ruin of many lives...
1. Nutcase Or Worried Parent?

AN: Yes, I know I'm supposed to be updating 'You Were A Newsie'…but that fic is on hiatus for now for reasons that I'm choosing not to disclose. Sorry about that…I'll try and fix the situation with it ASAP.

This is a very different take on Patrick's Mother, and I'm hoping it works out! It's from Specs's point of view. And it's SLASH! Don't like slash, don't read this. Simple enough.

This is only the introduction. It's a small taste of what's to come.

            She was there every single day for almost two years, at the bread cart, waiting for the Manhattan newsies to come and pick up our breakfast. I used to ignore her, or throw looks of pity her way…

            But not anymore. Not after I knew the truth.

            I just couldn't believe it all started with a snide comment on Dutchy's part. The one time that a bad comment escaped his mouth, it turned into a landslide. I guess everything Dutchy does has to be dramatic.

            "I wish dat she'd just give up. She's gone completely insane. Patrick is probably outta this city or dead," Dutchy muttered that sweltering day as we passed her. I was surprised he would say something like that when she quite obviously heard every word. I shook my head, adjusting my shirt collar so it wasn't so tight on my neck. 

            "I almost envy Patrick, whoever he is. At least his family is out looking for him," I said quietly, noticing the odd look that the woman gave me even as I spoke. I could feel her eyes on me as I grabbed a piece of bread from the hand of a weary looking nun, and even as I walked away her piercing gaze followed.

            She usually walked away immediately after we left.

            That day, that prophetic and fateful day, she lingered. I wouldn't know why until it was much too late.

AN: This is going to get very odd. You've been forewarned.


	2. Faith Has A New Meaning

AN: Yay! Here's chapter two, _finally_. Thanks to all my lovely, wonderful reviewers!

            Dutchy and I got to one of our normal selling spots as quickly as we could, hoping to get done with our selling early so we could get to someplace cool or lunch. The heat was already taking its toll on me, and I pulled my hat off my head momentarily to wipe the sweat off my forehead before it dripped into my eyes.

"Specs…is that Patrick's mom?"

            I finished selling another paper and turned to look where Dutchy had gestured, not far down the street from where we stood. Sure enough, Patrick's mother was walking in our direction.

            "Yeah, that's her. Wonder what she's doin' around here."

            Dutchy shrugged, turning back to a customer and selling another paper. I shouted another improved headline, getting more and more curious as Patrick's mother pushed through the crowd, straight toward Dutchy and I.

            " Come on, Dutch. Let's find another spot," I finally said, pushing him gently toward a less crowded part of the street. He gave me a strange look but didn't say anything. 

            I could definitely tell now that she was following us. She was keeping up with our quickened pace, and not making any effort to stop staring. I finally sighed, and then stopped and turned around. Dutchy did a double take, noticed her, and quickly stood his ground beside me.

            "What's she want?" he asked.

            "I don't know….guess we'll find out."

            She smiled shyly as she approached us, stopping a few feet from me and studying me from head to toe. Then she quietly said, "I knew I would find you. I knew it."

            An uncomfortable silence fell between us as Dutchy and I realized just what she had said. I looked back to him and he gave me a helpless look; he was never one to get involved in confrontation.

            "I don't know what you's talkin' about," I said, turning to walk away. She reached out and grabbed me by the sleeve, and I yanked away in a panic, stumbling forward into Dutchy and almost taking him down with me.

            "Don't leave me, not again!" she begged, reaching forward to help me up. I stumbled out of her reach, grabbed Dutchy's arm, and started walking away much quicker. She almost made to follow us, seemed to change her mind, and then stood in the middle of the street like a lost puppy. Once again those feelings of guilt rose up, but for once I just shoved them aside. 

            I ignored Dutchy's protests and attempts to pull out of my grasp until we were well away from that street. I finally let him go a couple of blocks farther away and he backed up a few steps, adjusting his shirt and staring me down.

            "She doesn't honestly think you's Patrick…does she?" he asked, breathing heavily.

            I shrugged. "There's no reason. I've passed her every day for years. It don't make any sense."

            We stood unsure for a moment, and I felt his eyes on me the whole time, watching me carefully. He finally said, "That really shook you up, didn't it?"

            I shook my head vehemently. "No. It's just…I didn't get much sleep last night. I's just tired," He looked at me with doubt shining in his beautiful crystal blue eyes, and I knew he could tell I was flat out lying. I'm a horrible liar, so it wouldn't be hard to tell. I shook my head again, clearing it of all the strange thoughts running through it, and then said, "Let's go sell before we miss lunch again."

            The rest of the morning was uneventful….well, mostly. I caught sight of Patrick's mother three more times before lunchtime rolled around, and each time she was just standing, staring at me like some type of ghost you'd catch sight of down a long hallway. Now that I looked closer, she almost did look ghostly; her eyes were deep in their sockets and her skin had a tone of gray to it, giving her the appearance of a skull instead of a face. She looked so frail that she might fall over at any moment, pushed by a strong and untimely gust of wind. She looked like she'd taken a beating from life- that same look that many of the newsies' get in their darkest hours.

            Needless to say, she scared me. And it's not often that I get scared enough to move selling spots every half hour; not only does it waste time, but it only makes the day seem hotter and gets your clothes more soaked in sweat. 

            Eventually Dutchy began to get sick of this charade. I couldn't blame him; I probably would've lost my temper and left by now had it been the other way around. But he followed dutifully, willing to make the day that much harder on himself for me to feel safe. 

            And that made me feel even more guilty and stupid. This shouldn't have been anything to me. It wasn't like she was out to _kill_ me, it was just a simple case of mistaken identity.

            We didn't have much money even between the two of us when lunchtime came, since only half of our papers had got sold. We sat behind a dress shop where they had a hose for the cart horses' trough set up, and we pooled our money to buy a couple of rolls and apples. Considering the fact that we were afraid we wouldn't be able to eat at all today, it was a meal fit for a king. The first few minutes of eating passed in uneasy silence with a minimum of eye contact between us. 

            "Specs…would you quit acting like ya just stole somethin'? The bulls are gonna see you lookin' around like dat and get us both in trouble," Dutchy said, referring to my constant glances toward either end of the alley.

            "Sorry…I just…"

            "You's afraid dat _she's_ gonna show up."

            "Yeah."

            Dutchy took another huge bite of his apple, and then chewed thoughtfully before speaking. "Look…she's not gonna hunt you down and murder you. Once she figures out dat you ain't Patrick, she'll leave us alone. Don't worry so much."

            "I know, I'm trying…but she just gives me the creeps."

            "Me too. She's a nutcase."

            "It's not that." I said as I shook my head, and Dutchy raised his eyebrows. I took a deep breath, and then slowly said, "What scares me…is that I think she honestly believes I'm him. And she honestly believes he's gonna come home. That _I'm_ gonna go with her."

            Will she show up again? And how will they convince her Specs isn't who she thinks he is? And here's a new feature to entice you to look forward to the next chapter!

**Flash Forward Preview Teaser Dialogue Line Thingie!!!!**

            "There _is_ no Patrick. There never _was._"


	3. Patrick Never Existed

AN: Thanks, once again, to all my reviewers. I'm glad the teaser went over so well! Alright…here goes with chapter three…

            It wasn't ten seconds after I spoke when I felt a shadow fall over both of us. We looked up, only to find Patrick's mother headed down the alley toward us.

            "Holy mother of God…doesn't she evah give up?" Dutchy asked as we both stood. 

            "Let's just get out of here."

            "Yes. Please."

            We turned to go the other way, only to find the way blocked by a huge man headed in our direction from the other side of the alley. I looked back and forth in a panic, which developed into confusion when the man pushed right past us and grabbed Patrick's mother by the wrist.

            "Where have you been? I've been looking all over for you!" He said, his voice sounding more concerned than angry. She tried to pull away from him, looking past him to see if we were still there. I was frozen in place from a morbid curiosity, and Dutchy wasn't about to leave me there.

            "But I found Patrick! I finally found Patrick!" She insisted, her voice at a fever pitch. The man looked at us for the first time, his eyes settling on me for a long moment before he turned and looked back at Patrick's mother.

            "Why don't you go sit down by the deli…I'm going to talk with him," he said.

            "But-"

            "Please?"

            She looked at me one more time, and at his gentle push, she turned and walked out of the alley, looking back over her shoulder one last time before turning the corner. 

            A soon as the man turned around, I began to back up. He had to be over a foot taller than me, and he looked like he could snap my arm like a twig.

            "I'm sorry about that, boys," he said, and I stopped backing up. I felt Dutchy's hand on my arm and I relaxed a bit, wondering who this guy was and why he felt he had to apologize to two newsboys. 

            "What's going on? Why does she think I'm Patrick?" I asked, and he smiled weakly.

            "I'm so sorry about that. I honestly don't know why she thinks you're Patrick. It's not possible."

            I shot a confused glance at Dutchy, who quickly asked, "What do ya mean?"

            He laughed, a sound that was shaded with obvious sarcasm. "There _is_ no Patrick. There never _was_." He looked at the ground, laughed once again, and then sat down on one of the many wooden crates piled up against the wall of the alley. "She wanted a child…a family…so bad. She saved every penny, picked out the best crib we could afford, even picked out the clothes the baby would wear first."

            "Hang on. I'm not seeing where this is going," Dutchy said.

            "Sshh…let him talk," I snapped, not really meaning to sound as harsh as I did.

            The man seemed unfazed. He continued speaking as if we hadn't even interrupted.

            "But it never happened. She never got pregnant. We went to the best doctor we could afford, but he had no answer. No one had an answer. And eventually, I gave up hope…but she didn't. In fact, she was determined to have a child."

            He ran his hand through his hair, glancing back at the alley entrance to make sure his wife was not overhearing things. Then, after taking a long look at us, he continued.

            "She started buying things…things a newborn child would need. She started setting an extra place at the table during meals. She would hold a conversation when no one else was in the room. She even called up a school and enrolled our…our _son_…in the first grade," He took a deep breath, his eyes locking on the ground.

            "I figured it was a phase she would simply pass through fairly quickly, but things only got worse. I would have to print up fake report cards from school so she didn't worry about how Patrick was doing in school. I had to convince waiters to set up a meal for no one at restaurants. I dealt with this insanity for 17 years. 17 damn, wasted years. And I guess I got sick of it. I lost it."

            I felt like I was listening to a fairy tale. All this couldn't be true. And yet, as he neared the end of the story, I felt myself wanting to know how it ended. And I wanted to know where I came into the picture.

            He looked truly ashamed as he continued, his face turning a pale shade of red. "We got into a fight. And in the midst of it, I told her that Patrick had run away to be a newsie. That he was never coming back. And she believed me. She actually believed me," he stood up so suddenly that I stumbled back a few steps, startled by the sudden movement. 

            "That's why she's gone to that cart every morning for three years. That's why she looks each one of you in the face, every day. And that's why she thinks _you're_ Patrick. I don't know how you did it…but you personified what she saw in our son."

            Silence fell between us for a full minute. My mind was racing at a million miles a minute, trying to figure all this stuff out.

            This woman honestly thought I was her son. And there wasn't any chance of finding the "real" Patrick to prove otherwise.

            "So…what do I do?" I asked quietly, meeting his empty, exhausted stare.

            "I don't know. This time, I just don't know."

AN: Woohoo! Insane people are fun! 

What's really fun is that this is a true syndrome. This isn't a fake disorder…this can really happen…but I'm going to embellish a bit in further chapters for sake of plot. You know me…I must have ACTION!

Teaser!

"Specs…I'm scared. This is getting way out of hand…and I don't think she's just gonna let you walk out of this alive." 


End file.
